


Mistakes We Make

by elfof_lorien



Category: Arthur Morgan - Fandom, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: F/M, Fight Scene, Flirting, Mention of blood, Mild Gore, OC backstory, Surgery, Violence, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfof_lorien/pseuds/elfof_lorien
Summary: Arthur accompanies Edith on what they expect to be a relatively uneventful trip into the wilderness for Edith to restock her medicinal plants and herbs. But not long into their adventure, they find themselves amongst some rather unsavory company. They survive the encounter but neither walk away unharmed. Edith has to put her skills to the test as the skeletons in her closet are itching to get out...





	Mistakes We Make

**Author's Note:**

> The second installment to my RDR2 fic (finally... sorry)!  
> Again, I originally began writing this series as an Arthur x Reader fic, so if that suits your fancy please feel free to read it as such! 
> 
> This is a long one! I hope you like it xx

A few weeks had passed. The weather had taken a turn for the better and the snow that had been holding the company deep in the mountains had finally released its icy grip. They had now settled just outside of a developing town called Valentine. Arthur had said that the town was nothing more than a smudge on the map. However, to Edith it was the biggest town she had been in, outside of Blackwater that is. The move had brought a steady flow of income to the camp and it seemed, for the time being, they could relax. Edith found comfort in what had begun to resemble a daily routine that for the first time in a while didn’t involve hiding out or being on the run. Also, it seemed that things between Arthur and her had settled once again. Though she found herself distracted by daydreams of the time they had shared in the cabin in the mountains. She wondered if it ever crossed his mind? The thought tumbled through her mind as she sat at the edge of the hillside the camp was on. Dutch had picked quite a lovely spot this time. He had decided to call it Horseshoe Overlook. It was a fitting title. The camp sat just above a little valley. The Dakotah river carved a winding path below and there were several trails that ran along and around it. Despite that, their position was well hidden and as usual, the entrances to the camp were under constant surveillance. 

Edith stood from where she had been seated, deciding it was time to head out for the day. Miss Grimshaw always had a few choice words for anyone who chose to stay at camp over gathering things to contribute. Except for Uncle and the Reverend, it seemed. Nevertheless, Edith had successfully evaded Miss Grimshaw’s bad side so far, and she didn’t want that to change. Edith went back to her tent and looked through her satchel. She had begun to run low on some herbs since leaving Blackwater. She pulled out the book her father had left her. He, too, had been a healer and he had kept extensive and detailed notes on the medicinal properties of various herbs and plants as well as where to find them. After consulting the notes and her map, Edith had a hunch that there was likely some milkweed and yarrow growing somewhere nearby. She collected a few empty sacks and her knife and shears before turning and exiting her tent. She smiled, fondly remembering moments from when she was younger. As a child, her father often brought her along on his trips to gather herbs. She remembered how she would read the name of a plant from one of his books, badly mind you, and he would point out where it grew on his map. If she thought hard, she could still remember the sound of his voice, his laugh. Edith shook off the thought, securing the buckles on her saddle bag, and turned back to the camp.

Though she was reasonably confident in her own abilities to protect herself, Dutch had ordered that the women not leave camp without a “chaperone” until he felt it was safe enough. With that in mind Edith decided to recruit her most trusted companion. First, she grabbed a mug and filled it with the fresh coffee Mr. Pearson had brewed before turning and heading toward his tent. 

“Arthur?” Edith called softly. 

Arthur was sitting on his cot, his back resting against the weapons carriage. His hat was tilted down over his face. Edith was sure he had dozed off. She felt conflicted. She wanted to let him rest, but needed his company to go and gather herbs. Admittedly, she could never turn down the opportunity to spend time with him.

“Arthur.” she whispered, gently tapping his knee. Her touch roused him from his sleep. He groaned, setting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Miss Edith,” Arthur said groggily. Looking up to her, his eyes squinted in the morning light. A different light seemed to fill his eyes. 

“I’m sorry to wake you.” Edith replied. She sat down by Arthur, careful not to get too close. She handed him the cup of coffee, steam billowing from the brim. 

“S’alright,” he assured her. Taking the cup, he breathed in the smell of the fresh grounds before taking a sip. “What can I do for you?” His voice still groggy from sleep touched something in her chest. She loved the sound of his voice like that. 

“I was hoping you would come with me to gather some herbs,” Edith admitted. She pulled out her map and unfolded it on her lap. “I think there should be some milkweed and even some yarrow in this area. They often grow in flatlands near flowing water, which we’re surrounded by.” She added, showing Arthur the map. He studied the map a moment where she indicated the herbs’ possible location. 

“Alright, let’s go take a look.” Arthur nodded, taking another sip. 

Edith blinked, almost surprised at his willingness. She had partially expected Arthur to suggest someone else to accompany her. But once again, his character impressed her. She smiled wide, “Great! Wonderful!” She stopped herself for a moment, containing her excitement, “I’ll go saddle up. I’ll be there when you’re ready.” She added, standing and backing away towards the horses. 

“Be right there.” Arthur nodded, finishing the last sip of coffee as he watched Edith leave. He smiled and laughed to himself, shaking his head. Once again, he felt that faint fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach, just has he had before. 

———————

Soon, Arthur found himself in the midst of a small hollow west of Valentine. Edith had guided them through the forest and soon they found signs of the herbs she was looking for. Arthur listened as Edith mused about the plants around them, sharing her knowledge of their properties. Admittedly, Arthur had some trouble keeping up with everything she was saying. But he found himself captivated by her enthusiasm. Her smile, and the way her eyes lit up as she spoke captured his full attention. He watched as she picked stems, listened as she spoke. His eyes found the familiar path outlining her lips, and the curves of her face. He followed it down the curve of her neck, stopping himself before his mind lead his eyes to wander too far. 

“Anyway… I could go on all day,” Edith paused. She had just realized how long she had been talking. Her eyes fell as her cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat before continuing, “I’d like to stay here for a while. There’s, uh, some bread and cheese in my saddle bag if you’re hungry.” 

Arthur watched as her demeanor changed. It saddened him to see her show embarrassment. Part of him wanted to grab her and tell her how beautiful she was in her vulnerability, but they had made an agreement. With that, he nodded, “Alright. Thank you.” 

He turned towards their horses. As he began walking, he looked to his feet and noticed something. Hoof prints. From a horse. Though they left their horses back at the tree line, these were fresh. Arthur continued walking, ignoring that nervous itch in the back of his mind until for now. Nevertheless, he walked over to the side of his horse, quietly removing his rifle from its hidden holster from under the saddle, and placed it over his shoulder. He then stepped towards Edith’s horse, he opened the saddle bag and tore a piece of bread from the loaf. He placed the rest of the bread back into the bag and strode over to a tree just at the edge of the clearing. He leaned against the trunk and crossed his leg in front of the other. As he did, he heard a clink like the sound of metal on glass. Arthur looked down to find two bottles at the base of the tree. He looked back to Edith, hoping not to draw attention and cause her to worry. She was still at the center of the clearing, knelt down by a low shrub. Arthur leaned down and picked up the bottle, turning it over in his hand to read the label. Irish whiskey. Arthur raised the mouth of the bottle to his nose, smelling the warm aroma that lingered. Still fresh, the last few drops hadn’t yet dried on the inside. Whoever left this, and the hoof prints Arthur assumed, hadn’t been gone long. And Arthur had a sneaking suspicion he knew just who had been there. 

He dropped the bottle and began to make his way across the clearing. As he took his next step Edith called out, “Arthur. There are bullet casings here…” That itch in his mind grew a bit. He hastened toward Edith. 

Once by her side, he looked to the ground where she was pointing. The forest floor was glittering with empty shells. Arthur knelt down to examine one, the sharp smell of gunpowder still present. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Instinctively he stood and turned to Edith. “We need to go.” He stated, his tone deadly serious. 

Edith’s gaze snapped from him to somewhere past the trees, “Someone’s coming.” She whispered, involuntarily stepping closer to Arthur. 

Arthur looked in that direction, the faint sound of horses coming closer. He looked back at Edith, weighing his options quickly. In a fluid movement, he unholstered his pistol and handed it to her. 

“You know how to use this?” He asked, his gaze as intense as his terse tone.

Edith looked from the pistol to his face, her eyebrows furrowed. She pursed her lips, swallowing hard and nodded once. “Yes.” she confirmed, her voice a little stronger than she was expecting.

“Alright. When I say go, you go. You go in them woods and keep quiet, but use that if it comes to it. Understood?” Arthur knew her spirit and worried it would fight him. 

“What about you?” Edith protested. She felt her heart drop at the thought of leaving him to the O’Driscolls. He exhaled roughly. There it was. 

“I’ll be fine. I just need you to get safe.” He demanded. The rumble of hooves on the ground came even closer. Arthur took the rifle from around his shoulder and cocked it as he stepped in front of Edith. 

“Arthur…” Edith whispered, her voice pleading as much as her eyes. The worry there brought him an unfamiliar ache. He didn’t want her to worry. He just wanted her safe. 

Arthur looked to her, a sharpness in his heart at the sound of her voice, “It’ll be alright. Just do as I say.” He wrapped his fingers around hers to secure their grip on the pistol. 

Suddenly the rumbling stopped. The sound of the woods and nature around them was almost deafening. Soon, however, they could hear a distinctive rustling through the underbrush. After a moment, three figures stepped out into the clearing. Two men with thick curly red locks who looked as if they were brothers stood aside another man. The man in the center was a mountain of a man. Nearly a foot taller than the other two with a nasty scar down the side of his face, the scar twisted his expression into a sneer. 

“Well hello ‘der.” Growled the mountain of a man, slowly stepping forward. 

“You fellas lost?” Arthur yelled. He tried not to do it, but instinctively stepped in front of Edith anyhow, attempting to hide her from their sights. 

“No. But ay think you are.” the man replied with a thick Irish accent, placing his hands on his hips. As he did so, the revolver at his side glimmered in the sunlight. 

“No. We’s just passing through.” 

“Is that so? Well that… hold a moment. Don’ I know you?” The man hissed, stopping just a few yards away from them. 

Arthur remained silent. He could hear Edith’s quick breathing just behind him. The man pointed at them, “You’s Arthur Morgan, ain’t he boys?” Arthur could smell the drink on the man’s breath. 

The two men laughed and agreed. Arthur remained stoic. Edith stood frozen, her hand squeezing the grip of the pistol. 

“Buh who’s this wit cha?” The man infront of Arthur tried looking around him to glance better at Edith. 

The man behind him called out, “She’s bonnie, aye?”

“Ay Tommy, ask ‘em is he sharin’?” The other man asked with a laugh. 

“Hows about you go with me mates, and ah, we bring ya yer girl later.” The scar-faced man sneered, pulling out the shining silver revolver from its holster. 

Arthur took a deep breath, “Now that ain’t gon’ work.” Arthur looked over his shoulder to Edith, his blue eyes wild and bright. Edith immediately locked onto his gaze. “Go.” he said in a low voice. Edith felt her heart sink yet her body felt electric. She quickly turned and started to head lower into the woods. At the same time Arthur fired two rounds, taking down the two men across the clearing. The scar-faced man ducked out of the line of fire. 

As she neared the tree line, she froze. Two more men stepped out from behind the trees. One with stringy black hair, holding a dagger in his hands. The other seemed to be rather young. Even younger than she. He held a large coil of rope. 

“An’ just where do you think yer goin’?” The black haired one cooed, his mouth creeping into a sinister grin. He took a single step forward. BANG! Arthur unloaded a round into the man’s chest before swiftly turning the rifle on the younger boy. The boy bolted behind the tree as Arthur shot. The bullet landed in the boy’s arm and he let out a cry before running off. 

Edith turned back to Arthur, her breath heaving in her chest. For a single moment they stood still, looking at each other. Arthur glanced at the pistol he had handed to her. Edith couldn’t explain what she was feeling. Fear, anger, guilt. Her mind raced. She felt frantic. Could he feel it too? 

“Edith, go!” Arthur insisted, a ragged urgency in his voice. 

Edith felt her eyes sting as she backed away. Arthur turned and she watched as he threw the rifle to the ground. He unholstered his sawn-off shotgun as she turned and started off down the hill into the trees.

Arthur slowly walked back into the center of the clearing, “Where’d you go you son of a bitch?” Edith heard Arthur’s taunt as she went further into the woods. A few yards further and she stopped by a fallen tree. She sat down, pushing her back flat against the bark. She covered her mouth to muffle her heavy breaths. Her ears were ringing but she knew she needed to calm herself and remain quiet. Someone would be coming down that hill after her in a moment. Either Arthur or the O’Driscoll, and she had to be prepared for the worst. She looked down at the pistol Arthur had given her. She opened the cylinder and counted how many bullets were loaded. Her fingers trembled on the cold metal. One, two, three, breathe. Four fiv- 

“Aghhhhhh” a voice cried from back up the hill. Edith looked in the direction it had come from. She felt sick. She knew that voice. She had been in this situation before. She wouldn’t let it end the same way. She took a deep breath, and breathed out squeezing her eyes shut before standing up and sprinting back up the hill. 

When she arrived back at the hollow, she found Arthur and the scar faced O’Driscoll on the ground. The O’Driscoll was on top of Arthur, a dagger right against his throat. Edith had to act quickly. She stood, raising the pistol. 

“Hey!” she yelled. The O’Driscoll looked up to her, just as she had hoped. In that instant, Edith pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the air, and landed right between the O’Driscoll’s eyes. His body fell backwards with the force of it. Dead. 

Edith stood there, frozen. She had known what to expect. She had defended herself before. But still, killing never gets easy. The clearing was quiet again, save for the sound of Arthur breathing, and the ringing in her ears. It was so loud she could feel it. Why was it so loud?

“Edith.” Arthur called, sitting up and rising up to his feet. 

She didn’t respond, she looked around the clearing. It had been so peaceful and beautiful just a few hours before. But now it no longer smelled of damp earth and greenery. It smelled of blood and gunpowder. She looked at the bodies scattered around. What would grow from their bones, she wondered. Something poisonous maybe. 

“Edith.” Arthur said again, his voice softer. He swiftly closed the distance between them. He took ahold of her shoulders, turning her to face him, “You alright?” He tried to look into her eyes to see the damage, but she just kept looking around the clearing. 

“One got away.” Edith said, her voice shallow. She looked over her shoulder where the younger boy had been. How had he gotten tangled in this mess? 

“Edith,” Arthur said once more, his tone gentle and calm. He placed his hand on her cheek, turning her face to his, “Are you okay?”

Edith blinked, confused. She looked down to the pistol, still held tightly in her hand. It’s warmth from being fired seeped into her cold fingers. She then looked back to him. “Yes.” she answered plainly. 

“Good.” Arthur replied. He gently took the pistol from her. He noticed the trembling in her fingers. He knew that they needed to find someplace safe and quiet. One got away. That means they could be waiting for them to leave, and they could be followed back to camp. They’d have to find somewhere to lay low for a while. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Arthur said, leading Edith to their horses. 

“Where are we going?” Edith asked, her mind far away. Her voiced sounded as though it had followed. She stood beside him, but she felt so far away. 

“I was thinking somewhere down the stream a little ways. That sound good to you?” Arthur asked softly, taking her hand and leading her toward their horses. 

“S-sure” she agreed. Would more be waiting for them? She could kill another, right? Of course, if she had to. If it meant keeping Arthur safe. She wouldn’t just sit by like she had before. 

Arthur helped Edith onto her horse. An involuntary hiss slipped through his lips at the sharp pain from the wound in his arm. He bit his lip, trying to stifle the cry. 

“You’re hurt.” Edith blinked, her eyebrows knitting together, “Arthur…I’m-I’m sorry.”  
“You saved me. You hear? I’ma be alright. Besides, I’m sure you’ll have me fixed up in no time, right?” Arthur asked his tone playful, mounting his horse.   
Edith looked at him intently, “Yes. Of course.” She still wasn’t quite herself and it twisted him up inside a little to see it. 

“That’s right. Now we’re going to stay in the trees. You follow me close, okay?” said Arthur. He kept his eyes on Edith, waiting for a response. 

Edith nodded, “Okay.” she breathed, taking hold of the reigns. 

Arthur nodded once and nudged his horse forward and off they went. 

———————

Arthur and Edith had followed the stream for a few miles now, and night had set around them. They soon came upon a small clearing across from an undercut along the stream. The banks around them were almost to the height of the horses so it would be safe to have a fire and not have to worry about being spotted. 

“Alright, I’ll get camp set up.” Arthur said, dismounting his horse with a muffled groan. 

“I’ll get some water.” said Edith, hopping down from her horse. She turned and removed the small pail from her saddle bags and started towards the water’s edge. She held the pail under the water and watched it fill. Her mind went back to the scene they had left. She shut her eyes, the images still vivid and fresh in her memory, sounds and smells haunting. The images replayed slowly. She could still feel the weight of the pistol in her hand, her finger squeezing the trigger. The warmth from stolen life transferred to weapon. She flinched, the deafening bang ringing in her ears. She lifted the pail and set it on the bank. She cupped the water in her hands and slashed it on her face. You saved him. Get yourself together. He still needs your help. Edith took a few deep breaths and stood tall. She pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed away the water from her face. 

Arthur knelt by the fire. The small flames cracking and hissing, quickly engulfing the twigs and kindling. Arthur looked up to Edith as she stepped towards the fire. 

“Do you have a coffee pot? I need to boil some water.” She asked, her tone even and collected. She sat the pail of water down by the fire and turned back to her horse. She rifled through the saddle bags a moment before pulling out a few small sacks of herbs and a metal tin before returning to Arthur. 

He had filled his kettle with water and placed it above the fire to heat as Edith knelt down beside him. “I need to get a better look at that, please.” She said softly, tilting her head towards his shoulder. 

Arthur nodded obligingly. Edith inched closer to him, lightly pulling away the blood-soaked fabric of his shirt. Arthur winced. 

“I’m sorry.” Edith said, quickly pulling her hand away. With only the fire and a dim lantern to help her see, she would need the best conditions to properly mend this wound. She felt herself flush at the realization of what that meant. “Would you… I need you to remove your shirt.” She couldn’t yet meet his gaze. 

Arthur nodded once more before he began to unbutton his shirt. He gingerly pulled the sleeve down from his shoulder. 

“I could mend that too, if you like” Edith added with a half-smile, glancing towards the shirt. Still not at him, he noticed. 

“Thank you,” Arthur smiled in return, “It is my favorite shirt.” 

“Ah, another reason to hate the O’Driscolls. They almost ruined Arthur’s favorite shirt.” Edith teased. Arthur laughed out loud. His laugh made her smile as she felt a warm fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Hearing that sound made her start to feel better. 

“Now,” She said with a sigh, “let’s get this cleaned up.” 

Edith took a deep breath before dunking the cloth in the pail. She wrung out the water and folded the cloth before raising it to his shoulder and lightly patting around the wound. Once the blood was washed away, she could easily see what had to be done. She placed the cloth back into the pail and took hold of Arthur’s arm. She lifted it and pulled it forward, testing to see if he still had full mobility, or if the knife had damaged the muscles. Though, it seemed luck was on their side. Edith looked through her satchel and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. She uncorked the bottle and raised the mouth to the wound. 

“What is that?” Arthur asked, his voice apprehensive. 

“Moonshine. It’ll clean the wound enough so it don’t get infected.” Edith answered plainly. 

“May I?” he asked, reaching for the bottle. 

“Probably for the best.” Edith handed it over, watching as Arthur took a long swig. 

“Gad damn.” Arthur exclaimed, breathing deeply as the liquid burned the back of his throat. 

“It’s been around for a while, it’s probably a few percent stronger now.” Edith admitted, looking at the bottle. She paused a moment, waiting for Arthur to catch his breath before returning the bottle to his wound. She looked up at him, waiting for him to give the okay. Arthur took a few deep breaths before giving a hard nod. She looked him in the eyes, and he felt better for it. Edith poured the liquid over the wound. Instantly Arthur clinched his fists. The moonshine caused a sensation like a white-hot band bound tightly around his shoulder. Arthur gasped, all the oxygen in his body ripped from inside him. 

“Breathe.” Edith urged, gripping his arm to keep it in place.

Arthur inhaled deeply through his nose. Slowly, his muscles began to relax. 

“That’s it.” Edith nodded, gently tracing circles on his shoulder with her thumb. “Hard part’s over.” she assured him. Her voice was as gentle as her touch. 

Edith then picked up the small tin at her side, she lifted the lid and removed a small spool of what looked like fishing line and a curved needle. Her fingers lingered a moment. Memories flashed in her mind. Memories of bringing the tin to her mother at her request, the contents rattling in her small hands. Edith squeezed her eyes shut, willing the thoughts back to their hiding place in her mind. She opened her eyes and focused on the bottle, she poured the moonshine over the thin, sharp needle before threading the line through the eye. She placed her hand on his shoulder again and looked into his eyes. 

“It’s going to take about six or seven stitches.” She explained, “Ready?”

Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath. Edith looked down to the task before her. She began mending the wound. Quickly, but gently. Though she tried to keep her mind focused, with each stitch she was filled with more and more guilt. 

While she worked, Arthur looked around their temporary camp. His gaze desperate for something to distract from the pinching and pulling in his arm. Before he even realized, he found himself watching Edith’s hands. Her fingers moved smoothly, the muscle memory doing most of the work. Her movements were deliberate, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble lingering at the tips of her fingers. He moved his gaze to her face. He studied her expression. There was a faint sadness in her eyes. He couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened. He should have been paying more attention to their surroundings. They had agreed before, but he couldn’t help how his thoughts always seemed to turn to her. He imagined taking her hands in his and holding them, his fingers itching to caress hers. He wanted her hands on his chest feeling his heart beat. 

They sat in silence as she worked, the crackling sound of the fire echoing in the trees. Soon, Edith’s hands fell still. She looked over her work and finding it suitable, she pulled out a small pair of brass shears. She snipped the end of the thread and placed her things back inside the little tin after cleaning them. 

“There.” She looked up to him, her voice soft. She stood and started towards her horse. Arthur looked down to the stitches. A perfect line. They would heal quickly. He thought of how lucky they were to have someone like her with them. How lucky he was to know her…

“I’ll brew some arnica, the leaves will help it heal faster, and the tea as well.” She explained, rummaging through her saddle bags again, pulling out a small sack and roll of gauze. She returned to the fireside, placing the arnica herb into the kettle. A few minutes passed, and when the tea was done, she poured Arthur a cup. She then scooped out the leaves and placed them in a piece of gauze. After ringing out the water, she placed the damp leaves over the wound and wrapped his shoulder with gauze. Arthur watched her hands once again, thoughtfully moving with composure and grace. 

“Where did you learn these things?” Arthur asked, studying her face. 

Edith looked down, gathering her thoughts, “Mostly from my father,” she paused, “I had a lot of time to myself when I was younger.” Arthur watched as she carefully chose her words. It made him curious. 

“He a nice man?” Arthur asked idly. 

“He was.” she replied. Her response was short but not unkind. Her past had been weighing so heavily on her mind today, she felt exhausted from the weight of it all. “Now, drink this. When you’re done you should get some rest.” Hopefully he would go along with her changing the subject. She had a nagging suspicion that he wouldn’t. 

Arthur took a sip from the tin mug. His face made an involuntary grimace at the taste. He looked up from the cup, “I’m fine. You should rest.” he urged. 

Edith sighed, standing again to return her things to her saddle bag. She was rather tired, but she was more concerned for him. She searched her mind for a good excuse. Arthur saw this and wasn’t going to settle for any excuses, “Really. I’ve got to finish my, erm… tea first.” 

Edith shook her head with a smile. Now that she thought about it, she was rather tired. She sighed heavily, giving in. She then turned back to her saddle bag and removed the cotton bedroll. She placed it by the fire and laid down. She and Arthur spoke little nothings for a time. And soon with the sounds of his voice and the creek beside them, she drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of that which her waking mind tried its damnedest to deny. She dreamt of Arthur and what she wanted with him. She dreamt of what she knew he wanted with her. But the dream ended too soon and the nightmare began. Her past haunted her as much as killing that man today did.

Arthur looked up from his cup, the tinted liquid now cold. Seeing she was asleep, he tossed the liquid out of the cup. He smirked, thinking how he would consider getting stabbed again rather than drink anymore of the “tea”. However, he did find that his shoulder wasn’t as sore as he had thought when he lifted himself up from behind Edith by the fireside. His gaze returned to Edith’s soft features as he passed her, the sharp pang of guilt retuning to is gut. He turned and knelt by the water to rinse his cup as he remembered waking up and regrettably disentangling himself from her. He looked up, surveying the surroundings, when something caught his attention. He turned on his heel, quickly returning to the fireside. His gaze returned to Edith. She was dreaming, he realized. Her brows were tightly knitted together and soft, almost silent whimpers escaped her lips. Weighing his options, he knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to wake her. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Edith.” He whispered. With his hand on her back, feeling her heart race. He felt as she trembled beneath him. 

Edith felt his hand on her back and instantly relaxed, her eyes opened and she inhaled deeply. She blinked at her surroundings for a moment before whispering in response, “I’m fine.”She shuddered, both from the nightmare and Arthur’s hand on her. Images ran through her mind, memories playing out. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Everything felt so heavy today.

Noticing the tone of her voice obviously contradicting her statement, Arthur raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry... It was just a dream” she urged, her voice cracking. Arthur watched as she pulled her knees to her chest, whatever it had been, it weighed heavily on her. 

“What about?” He asked.

Edith sat silently for a moment, biting her lip, “My brother…” she admitted. And you she thought to herself, recalling the images from her dreams. 

Arthur remained quiet. He nodded his head softly, his gaze trailing from the fire to her face. He would understand if she didn’t want to share any more, but of course he would be more than happy to listen if she did. Quietly, he sat down beside her. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he betrayed himself once again, taking her hand in his. 

Edith studied his face. She turned her gaze back to the fire and took a deep breath. 

“My father was a doctor. He used to travel to neighboring towns and homesteads to help anyone who needed it. He would be gone for weeks at a time, and it would be just my brother and me. The last time, he had been gone for longer than we expected. I remember being so excited when I thought I heard his carriage coming down the dirt road to our house. Samuel and I waited at the edge of the woods… The sound we heard wasn’t his carriage, it was horses. A group of men were coming down the road and when they saw us, they shot at us. I remember Samuel picking me up and running back to the house. He told me to hide in the basement and not to come out until he came for me. The men had robbed and killed my father. Apparently, he had made a decent amount on that trip and they thought they would come back to the house looking for a stash. And then there was... so much gunfire. People yelling. I remember covering my ears. After a while though, it was quiet. I don’t know how much time passed, but soon I heard this dragging sound. It stopped right at the door to the basement. I was so afraid, I went as far back into the basement as I could, and I hid. A few days passed, I think. I don’t know. I just knew I was waiting for Samuel. But I was cold, and hungry, so I decided to try and peek out the door…” Edith paused, her chin began to shake. 

“It was him. He was there at the door. He- He had...” her voice broke.

“Edith.” Arthur whispered, reaching for her hand.

“He died. Alone. Not ten feet away from me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Arthur said, his voice sure yet kind. 

Edith dropped her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. His words, although kind, didn’t erase the pain, her sorrow from such a memory. Her brother had died in coming to save her. She didn’t even know it was him to be with him in his last moments. He died alone. 

“He died keepin’ you safe. That’s honorable.” He assured. 

“I didn’t do anything though. You see… I couldn’t make that mistake again.” 

Arthur looked at her, considering her words. He noticed the similarities now. Everything made sense. She had saved him. Suddenly, he felt as though he was flooded with emotion. Whatever they had agreed to, to go on with nothing but friendship between them, he couldn’t. He could no longer deny his feelings for her. He wanted to tell her what it meant to him, how much she meant. But perhaps now wasn’t the time. Now she needed comfort, and he was willing to give it. Arthur brushed her cheeks, wiping away the tears. She looked into his eyes. He nodded his head slightly. “C’mere.” 

Edith wrapped her arms around his strong torso, resting her head on his chest. Arthur placed his arms around her shoulders, stroking her long brown hair. In that moment, he made a promise to himself; He would protect her, always. And she would never again be alone.


End file.
